


Heir B&B

by cfcureton



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), olicity - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 17:19:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17145866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cfcureton/pseuds/cfcureton
Summary: Felicity's Fabulous Winter Girls Weekend has gone completely wrong...or has it?





	Heir B&B

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackcanarydinah](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=blackcanarydinah).



> My Olicity Secret Santa 2018 gift for blackcanarydinah.

The final nail in the coffin of Felicity’s Fabulous Winter Girls Weekend came in the form of a text message from Sara:

SNOWPOCALYPSE HAS CLOSED DOWN THE AIRPORT. NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO MAKE IT. 

The message was followed by the sad face, snowflake, and middle finger emojis.

Felicity slumped against the trunk of the Uber she was just about to lift her suitcase into, defeated. Caitlin had already texted first thing that morning to announce sorrowfully that she’d picked up a stomach bug overnight and could barely crawl to bed, let alone get on a plane. 

The three of them were scattered around the country and only managed to see each other about once a year; without this trip it would be months before they even had a chance of getting together.

And now Felicity was stranded, alone, in Starling City. 

She swallowed down frustrated tears, scrambled into the backseat of the car, and tried to soothe herself with the thought that at least she’d be spending the weekend in her very first castle...or as close as you could get to a castle in the new world. 

It had been Caitlin’s turn to plan the trip and she’d found a fabulous deal on Airbnb. The three of them had spent weeks fantasizing about the seven bedrooms, fully-stocked gourmet kitchen, and indoor pool. Felicity thought of the three plastic tiaras she’d stashed in her carry-on and wanted to cry. 

Forty-five minutes from the airport her driver turned into a long winding driveway flanked by trees that ended under a porch at the front steps. 

“You’re staying here?” The driver was clearly impressed. 

“I guess so,” she replied, not exactly excited about the idea now.

Felicity let herself in through the giant front door as instructed by the confirmation email; the huge foyer was completely dark. And very chilly. 

She kept her coat on as she wandered around the space looking for a light switch. The description did say it had modern lighting, right? Her fingers finally found the switch and the room was illuminated by soft light from a bevy of wall sconces and one large chandelier; Felicity breathed a sigh of relief. 

Just then there was a loud crash somewhere to her left. This is where I die, she thought immediately, reaching into her coat pocket for her phone and the emergency 911 button. Was it press five times fast or three times slow to raise dispatch? She’d never tried it, and now she couldn’t remember. Even if she managed to call for help, they would take forever to show up. She crouched down to unzip her suitcase and fumble for her small umbrella. It was probably a terrible weapon, but better than nothing. 

The wise thing, of course, was to stay right by the front door so she could run outside when whatever it was that was coming to kill her appeared. But this was a mystery, and if there was anything Felicity Smoak hated, it was mysteries. She tiptoed down the hall with the umbrella cocked like a tiny, bright pink baseball bat. 

There were several doors along the hallway, but only one that was standing slightly open. Felicity worked up the courage to peek around the edge of the door, but just as she was leaning inward the door itself was flung all the way open, dumping her into a very broad chest in the doorway. 

“Oof,” she said, intelligently, her pink umbrella banging harmlessly against his rather large bicep. 

“Holy shit you scared me.” The voice belonged to the body; Felicity held her breath and looked up to find the first non-disappointing thing she’d encountered all day. 

“Hi,” he said then, with a shy smile and a flash of humor in his very blue eyes. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and holding her elbow lightly. How had she missed that before?

“Um, hello.” Fan-freaking-tastic, Felicity. 

“I take it you’re the weekend renter.” He tipped his head ever-so-slightly to the umbrella. “Come to kill me?”

“Hm, what? Um, no. I thought you were coming. To kill me,” she finished, after a cringy pause. Good grief. The skin around his eyes crinkled merrily, though everything below them remained somewhat somber. 

“You’re Caitlin?” He fished into his back pocket for the confirmation email with the hand not holding her elbow...Why was he still holding her elbow?

Not that she minded, actually.

“No, sorry. I’m Felicity.”

“Hi, Felicity. Oliver.”

She nodded into his chest, wondering if they were still supposed to shake hands if he already had ahold of her. 

“So look,” he continued, gently steering her back out into the hallway, “there’s a little problem with the house.” Oliver laid the paper aside and ran a hand through his hair—Nice hair too? Geez—looking chagrined. “The boiler went out this morning. There’s no heat, I’m afraid.”

“Of course there isn’t.” She said it under her breath, hardly even a whisper. If Sara’s text was the nail in the coffin, this was the dirt thrown on top of the grave. Felicity sucked in a breath to ward off tears and wondered if airlines ever gave refunds on account of supreme disappointment. 

“Hey,” Oliver said softly, with a little squeeze of her elbow. “When your friends get here—“

“There are no friends coming,” she burst out, cutting him off. “One’s grounded by weather at the airport, and the other one’s sick. It’s just me.”

The tears were coming, she could feel it. Felicity tried to turn away but he still had her damn elbow; she looked down and swiped under her lashes furiously. 

“Felicity, hey.” He sounded a little desperate. “If you get upset I’m going to get upset, and this whole mess will be a lot harder to fix.”

THAT stopped the tears cold, because what? Felicity glanced up at him, thoroughly confused and then surprised to see the obvious distress on his face. Without thinking she laid a hand on his arm. 

“Look, it’s no big deal. I bet downtown Starling City is really fun, right? If I can get a refund for this weekend I’ll book a hotel room and hang out there, maybe. It’ll be fine.”

Her speech was tumbling toward a ramble but it didn’t seem to be doing any good. If anything, Oliver looked worse the longer she went on. He shook his head sadly. 

“I’ve already tried to reserve you—“ he gestured vaguely away—“and your friends a room somewhere else in the city, but everything is booked.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Some sort of superhero fandom convention, they said.” 

Felicity’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Okay, well that was my last idea. Maybe I can change my flight and head home tonight.”

Suddenly Oliver was moving them both back into the room he’d been in when this all started. 

“I was working on something...”

The room was a library, lined floor to ceiling and almost wall to wall with books; a giant fireplace anchored one wall. Oliver stopped in front of it. 

“I was going to get this going to try to heat one room, at least.” He looked down at her expectantly. “I still could.”

“And then, what, I’d huddle in one room all weekend alone?” Felicity looked at her shoes. “But I guess I’m in no position to be picky, huh?”

It was quiet for a moment, a pause, but not an awkward one. For some inexplicable reason Oliver still had her elbow in his hand. She felt him sigh above her. 

“I can...uh, let me get the fire going.”

His hand finally left her, and she MISSED it. What. The. Hell. Felicity wrapped her arms across herself and waited, quiet and watchful, as Oliver kneeled in front of the hearth and continued where he’d presumably left off when he heard her come into the house. The fireplace tools were scattered about and the stand was tipped over; that must’ve been the crash she’d heard.

“So, you’re the caretaker?” she asked, a question to pass the time. She couldn’t see his face from this angle, but his shoulders jumped in a silent surprised laugh. 

“No, the owner. Or I will be, someday.” He glanced over his shoulder at her with a faint smile. “Troublesome boiler and all.”

Felicity couldn’t help smiling herself. The first tiny flames were beginning to spread; she stood transfixed as Oliver patiently fed small pieces of wood into the fire, careful not to smother the flames. 

By the time he stood she could feel the heat coming off of it; her arms uncrossed and she stretched her hands toward it, wiggling her fingers in relief. 

“So, ah, I started to say before...” Oliver rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the floor and Felicity suddenly realized how NERVOUS this guy was.

And completely adorable. Gah.

“...If you don’t think it would be inappropriate, I could, um, stay. Too.” He glanced up at her from under his lashes, unsure, and Felicity’s heart completely melted. Usually she was the one talking in sentence fragments. 

“It’s just two nights,” she replied slowly, her arms still held out and her fingers twisting together. She gave a tiny, flirtatious shrug. “And if you manage to get the heat going there ARE seven bedrooms,” she teased lightly. 

“Oh, there won’t be any heat,” he assured her quickly. “I don’t have the skills, and my boiler guy is out of town until Monday. But,” he glanced around them, “it is a big room.”

“We could build blanket forts, I suppose.” Felicity was really starting to enjoy this banter. She pivoted to survey the space. “I could take this side for my kingdom”—she gestured to one end of the room—“and you could have that half over there. The colder side, of course.”

“Oh, absolutely. You should have the heat from my side of the room too, just on principle. I insist.”

Felicity felt her face stretch into a grin and those eyes of his twinkled merrily again. Wowza. 

“Are you hungry? I stocked the fridge.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

They spread their pillaged bounty—fresh fruit, cheese, and crackers—out in front of the hearth with a bottle of wine and all the blankets they could scavenge. Which, Felicity decided after surveying the mound, was a lot. 

“I’ve heard of people renting out their homes on the weekends, but I’ve never met one. Where do you stay when it’s rented? Usually, I mean.”

Oliver shrugged softly. “You’re the first renter I’ve ever had, actually.” He looked slightly embarrassed. “My little sister is away at school and my mom spends most of her time in the city with her new husband, so it’s just me here, usually. The house is so expensive to run, I just thought it might make sense to let it earn its keep.” 

“Well, don’t let this first experience put you off,” Felicity gushed, fitting a slice of cheese on a cracker. “I bet there are tons of people who would love to spend the night in a castle.”

Oliver smiled shyly but didn’t reply. 

When most of their impromptu feast was polished off Oliver fed the fire and brushed his hands over his jeans. 

“Ready to build a fort?”

He led the way down the hall to another door; Felicity gasped when he flipped a switch and three giant crystal chandeliers came to life over the longest dining table she’d ever seen. 

“We can use these chairs. There’s more in storage if we need them.”

Felicity did a quick count in her head: Twenty-six. There were twenty-six chairs at the table. She shot Oliver a sidelong look of disbelief that he didn’t see. 

They spent the next few minutes hauling chairs to the library, and then deliberated quite seriously about the best fort-building method. Oliver discovered that stacking the chairs made a nice high ceiling, and Felicity designed hers with the front open to face the fire but the back closed, to trap the heat. There were plenty of blankets left over to make the floor deep and soft, and at the last minute she rearranged the chairs to create a cubby on one side big enough for her suitcase. 

Felicity stepped back near the hearth to survey her work and pronounced it an architectural masterpiece before her eye caught Oliver beginning the work on his own fort on the far side of the room. She bit her lip and shifted from foot to foot. 

“You know, there’s a lot more heat on this side of the room than I can really use.” His head raised to regard her quite seriously. She swallowed hard. “You sure you don’t want to build a little...closer? To the fire?”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity took a moment to check her phone while he put the finishing touches on his own abode. Sara had texted to assure her she had enough bread, eggs, and milk for two week’s worth of french toast, and Caitlin had thanked her for the reminder to push fluids. 

As she scrolled through her emails her eye caught on the confirmation from Airbnb. She bit her lip and tapped it; there at the bottom she saw the owner information: His name was Oliver Dearden. He had chosen not to include a picture, which was probably a good thing, since Caitlin and Sara would have risked life and limb to get here if they suspected how hot their host was. Felicity tried hard to hide her grin.

They shared a bowl of popcorn from their adjacent tents, their faces lit by the dancing flames of the fire. They couldn’t seem to talk fast enough; Felicity told him about growing up in Las Vegas before attending college on the East Coast. Oliver listened thoughtfully, and looked wistful when she explained how her job with Wayne Enterprises in Gotham City was challenging but lonely. When it was his turn, he listed the universities he’d attended—all four of them—and confessed that he still didn’t know what to do with his life. Their conversation stretched deep into the night, and eventually the long, emotional day caught up with Felicity. She fell asleep to the sound of a crackling fire. 

Waking up felt much the same; the fire was still burning merrily in the soft light of morning. Her cheeks were warm and toasty, and when she rolled over after a good yawn-and-stretch she encountered Oliver’s blue eyes gazing back at her with only their tent walls between them. She regarded him a moment before breaking the comfortable silence.

“Either that fire is magic, or you stayed awake all night to keep it going.”

He smiled shyly, his head pillowed in his arms. “Not ALL night.”

She dreaded getting out of her cozy fort, but was pleasantly surprised to find that Oliver had also managed to produce a small space heater to warm up the bathroom. He made them omelets and they ate bundled up in the kitchen looking out over the wintery grounds.

“It’s going to be a beautiful day,” he observed quietly. “What would you like to do?”

Felicity finished her bite and pondered. “You’re the local. What would you suggest?”

“Would you like to go into the city? I know a great place to ice skate.”

He let her pick the car—there was an impressive collection to choose from—and by late morning they were cruising through downtown Starling. 

The streets and sidewalks were filled with weekend shoppers and convention-goers. Felicity fell in love with the atmosphere of the city; Gotham was dark and sad by comparison. Oliver seemed to know all her favorite places to shop, and when she questioned him he shrugged bashfully and explained that he had accompanied his sister downtown a lot. 

Lunch was in a warm little bistro tucked out of the way of the crowds. They talked about nothing and everything as they ate, finishing off by sharing an enormous piece of cheesecake. As they stood to leave it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to slip her hand inside his. 

The ice rink stood in the plaza outside Queen Consolidated, a name that made Felicity’s tech-loving heart skip a beat. It was busy, but they didn’t have to wait long to rent two pairs of skates. 

“I must warn you, I am not much of a skater.” 

Oliver didn’t seem fazed, tying off his laces and then kneeling in front of her to double check her own. His eyes twinkled as he held out a hand for her. 

“I’ve got you.”

Felicity suspected he had more than a passing knowledge of ice skating; he was a strong and confident skater, and very patient with her flailing about on the ice. With her hand inside his she felt twice as good as she actually was, and before long she was circling the rink next to him with longish, smoothish glides. 

He caught her staring up at the QC skyscraper as he helped her out of her skates forty minutes later; his mouth turned up at the corners. 

“I’ve always thought I’d like to work there,” she confessed quietly.

Oliver tipped his head toward the entrance. “There’s a great coffee shop inside. And the view from the Observation Deck is pretty amazing too.”

He hadn’t exaggerated about the coffee; Felicity let the cup warm her hands as they rode up in the elevator. They stepped out into a giant empty space with windows all the way around. The city sprawled out beneath them, compact at first, then gradually spreading as it stretched away in every direction to the horizon. 

“Which way is the castle?” she asked, circling the room in wonder. Oliver pointed west and they went to the windows on that side together. It was a clear day; the visibility was probably twenty miles, but she couldn’t see it. 

“There’s a lot of trees between here and there,” he explained quietly, reading her mind. 

Felicity was surprised a place this cool was empty on such a busy weekend, but when she wondered about it out loud Oliver only shrugged. They had the elevator to themselves all the way to the ground floor. 

He drove her around the grounds of the art museum and then out past Rockets stadium and the bay. For dinner her took her to the trendier part of town. They ate an early dinner in a bar and talked until the live music started. 

It was close to midnight by the time they walked back into the dark and chilly house. Felicity perched on the edge of the hearth with her coat pulled around her while Oliver rebuilt the fire. 

“Thank you for today,” she said quietly, watching him work. 

Oliver paused to look at her. “It was my pleasure.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, and suddenly she knew she couldn’t bear to hear it. “With service like this, you’re going to be booked every weekend,” she jumped in. 

Whatever he wanted to say died on his lips; he glanced away and nodded softly. 

Felicity got ready for bed and crawled into her fort, a little sad. She didn’t lay down right away, staring into the fire instead and wishing that things could somehow be different. Oliver watched her from his spot in the adjoining fort. 

“What time do you need to go tomorrow?”

She dropped her eyes to her lap. “My flight’s at four.”

“Okay.” He sounded a little more cheerful. “Is there anything else you’d like to do before you leave?”

Felicity looked up and caught his eye and they stared for a long, long moment. When she didn’t answer he finally huffed a small laugh. “Well, we’ll think of something.”

By the time she’d scrunched down into her blankets and rolled to face him Oliver’s eyes were fluttering shut with sleep.

“I’m sorry your friends couldn’t come,” he murmured, almost out.

Felicity waited until his breathing had evened out in sleep before she whispered “I’m not.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were mostly quiet through breakfast; dismantling the forts and returning the chairs took almost an hour. It occurred to Felicity that she’d never taken a picture of their funny little shelters, and for a second she thought she might cry. When everything was back in its proper place Oliver reached for her hand and led the way through the house, giving Felicity a tour of every nook and cranny of the mansion. 

He showed her the indoor pool, the hallway that held an art gallery, and the false wall under the stairs that was actually a panic room in disguise. She found herself clinging to his arm, walking in step with him to keep him as close as possible. 

He asked if he could drive her to the airport over soup and sandwiches; she had to nod her answer because of the lump in her throat. At one o’clock she gathered up her suitcase and let him lead her out front to the car. 

They held hands the whole ride, neither feeling the need to talk. Felicity watched the trees fly by her window, but she was really only concentrating on the pressure of Oliver’s fingers entwined with hers. 

He parked in the short term lot so he could accompany her inside; he waited patiently outside the line to check her bag and met her as she exited, ticket in hand. Security was next, and that would be the end. 

Felicity stopped just outside the hall where they would part and dropped her bag off her shoulder to shuffle its contents and buy herself one more minute with him. Her rummaging caused one of the small plastic tiaras to flip out onto the floor and at her gasp of concern Oliver stooped to gather it up. 

They were nose to nose, crouched on the floor of the airport, trying to figure out how to say goodbye. He studied the flimsy bejeweled headpiece for just a second before reaching up to settle it gingerly on her head; a tear slipped down Felicity’s cheek. 

“Hey. If you get upset I’m going to get upset...” 

Oliver trailed off with a watery smile. She flung herself into his arms and held on for dear life, not even caring that the tiara was slipping and they were impeding foot traffic in the middle of a busy airport. He finally pulled back to hold her at arms length and Felicity knew she really had to go. 

She was positive he’d be waiting and watching until she passed through Security, but she didn’t dare let herself look back. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Oliver pulled his phone from his pocket on his walk back to the car and called up the contact number for Queen Consolidated’s CEO.

“Walter, hi. It’s Oliver. Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I need to ask a favor.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

ONE WEEK AND ONE DAY LATER

Bruce Wayne stabbed the intercom button on his phone and growled for his EA. He tapped his pen in irritation as he waited for Alfred to pop his head around the door frame.

“Felicity Smoak just gave two week’s notice. QC is head hunting my best employees.”

A mischievous glint came into Alfred’s eye.

“Oliver Queen strikes again,” he teased. 

Bruce scowled and pointed for the man to get out. “Oliver Queen is a myth.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oliver ran a hand through his hair as he waited for his email messages to load. He was pleasantly surprised to find an Airbnb booking request among the new messages in his inbox. 

He clicked on it with a little sigh to find it was for a week from Friday. He hadn’t even finished scrolling down to the particulars before another booking email popped up, followed immediately by two, then three, more. Oliver huffed a laugh at the notifications rapidly filling his screen; either the site was malfunctioning or he’d just hit the hospitality jackpot. 

Before he could sort it all out his phone rang and his heart rate picked up at the name on the caller ID.

“Hey,” he said, going all warm and gooey inside.

“Check your email.” There was laughter in her voice.

“I’m looking at it right now—“

“You didn’t tell me,” she broke in and accused gently. 

“Didn’t tell you what?”

“That you’re a Queen.”

A slow grin lit Oliver’s face.

“Well I do live in a castle.”

There was a smile in Felicity’s voice. “Not next weekend, buddy. Or the weekend after that. In fact, I believe it’s been rented out every weekend for the foreseeable future.”

Oliver scrolled down through the first request, then clicked to the second and third as his face broke into a huge smile. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

He was waiting at the arrivals gate to scoop her up into his arms and kiss her the way he should’ve done before she left.

“I didn’t think the service could improve from the last time I was here,” Felicity teased when they finally came up for air. She slid her hands up into his hair and Oliver hummed his approval.

“Well we are a full service operation. With heat and everything.”

“And blanket forts?”

Oliver lowered her gently to the floor and took her hand to lead the way to Baggage Claim. 

“Sooo many blanket forts.”


End file.
